A Baumgartner reunion

“Here’s lookin’ at you, Taffy,” he said, drinking it and looking like he was wishing it was a shot of whiskey. Somehow I knew what he was going to say, although my breath caught anyway and my heart hammered at his words. “The Baumgartners have invited us to Key West with them over the holiday break.” He tapped on the glass, trying to look nonchalant, and the hamster yawned, showing its long teeth before turning and snuggling back into the little nest it had made for itself in the cedar.

I didn’t say a word. I couldn’t. I just turned around and went upstairs, wondering just what I was going to do now.

Chapter Two

There wasn’t any preparing myself, even if I told myself there was as I stood in front of the mirror and double-checked my hair and make-up, smoothed the brown silk skirt and tucked in my blouse. I was glad I was upstairs when she rang the doorbell. Just hearing her voice made my hands tremble and I pressed them to my thighs to keep them still as I paused at the top of the stairs.

“So nice to meet you!” Gretchen’s smile was for TJ, but her look was just for me, and I knew it. She took a step toward the stairs, meeting my gaze with hungry eyes. I couldn’t help my smile, even though it felt goofy on my face as I came the rest of the way down.

“Gretchen!” Her name felt familiar in my mouth, even after all this time.

“You cut your hair!”

She laughed, snaking an arm around my neck and pressing her cheek to mine. “All of them-probably several hundred times since you last saw me, sweetie.”

It was a very brief thing, that hug, but I could smell her hair, still white-blonde but cut into a short bob now, making her thin, pale face look fuller. She smelled fresh and sweet, like clover and oranges. How old was she now? I was doing the math in my head and came to the sum of thirty-four. Five years older than I was. There were the faintest lines around her eyes when she smiled, but she was still Gretchen.

“Come on in out of the cold.” TJ shut the front door against the wind and snow, offering to take Gretchen’s coat. Her dress was short, shimmering black in the lamp light as she shrugged her shoulders and let her coat slide off into TJ’s hands. I knew she’d dressed for me, just like I’d dressed for her-and I think she knew it, too, the way her eyes moved over my blouse, unbuttoned into a suggestive V. She still had much more than I did in that department, the black fabric gathered between her breasts showing quite a bit of cleavage. I noticed TJ

noticing as he poured wine and we sat around the kitchen table.

“Oh my god, Ronnie, you look so amazing.” Gretchen smiled a thank you as TJ handed her a glass of wine. “I don’t think you’ve changed at all.”

“You haven’t seen my stretch marks.” I laughed, wrinkling my nose when TJ handed me a glass and setting it aside. “You look the same too-except all your hair is gone!”

“I got too old to get away with it anymore.” She winked, taking a sip and turning appreciative eyes to TJ. “Mmm, this is good!”

“It’s a petite syrah,” TJ said with a nod.

Gretchen raised her eyebrows at him and lifted her little snub nose into the air in a delicate sniff. “And something smells fantastic. ” Her eyes were the same bright green, just as mischievous and not likely to miss a thing. Every time she looked my way, I felt it, like a familiar ache.

I took a long drink of wine and grimaced. “TJ’s famous spaghetti-secret recipe, straight from his grandmother in Sicily.”

“I’m so glad you called.” Gretchen sat up and reached over to touch TJ’s hand. It was brief, just a squeeze, but I noticed her long, manicured nails, painted bright red, an uncharacteristic color for her, and it reminded me sharply of Mrs. B.

She turned her gaze to me again, and there it was, that feeling like someone had just reached their hand into my belly and twisted. “I’ve thought about you so often.”

I held my empty glass out to TJ, who poured with a raised eyebrow. “I’ve thought about you, too.” It wasn’t a lie. When I’d first ended things with Gretchen, I thought about her all the time, and I knew it would drive me insane if it didn’t stop, so I did what I needed to do. Vince, the guy I was dating at the time, was a personal trainer-gorgeous, ripped, he had a brilliantly rational mind but was more than a little OCD-and he taught me how to get rid of Gretchen for good.

I’d put a rubber band around my wrist, and every time my thoughts turned to her, I snapped it-hard. Really, really hard. Sounds silly, but it worked. Between that and the incredibly huge eleven inch cock Vince presented me with to handle at every possible occasion-I’ve never had bigger, before or since-it was enough of a distraction to get me through. But the truth was, while it worked to keep me distracted, it didn’t work all the time. No, not all the time.

Both of TJ’s eyebrows were raised at me now and I tried to change the subject. “So, how are the Baumgartners? What’s everyone up to?”